


Where Do I Even Start?

by ourladyofletters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Post Swan Song, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:52:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourladyofletters/pseuds/ourladyofletters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel freed Sam from the cage, and he did it for Dean. Now back in game, Dean and Sam find themselves on a case, and in need of a little help from the angel who has saved them countless times. Dean is going to have to find a way to thank him sometime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FishFromSpace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishFromSpace/gifts).



> This all started with a prompt from the wonderful Tone Person , and was kept going thanks to Lily West for being an absolutely wonderful Beta.

 

The drive was silent save for the discrete tapping of rain from the sky, and the sound of slick tires on a gravel road.  Dean stared at the road ahead, fighting through the flashes of painful memories that surrounded him, threatening to suffocate him. The sound of his bones cracking beneath his brothers hand rang clear through his mind. The taste of his own blood still haunted his lips. He couldn't shake the look on Sammy's face as he took control of the Devil. He watched his brother’s fist unclench and recognition fill his eyes.  Dean could still hear Sam's voice, clear as a bell, saying, "It's okay, Dean. It's gonna be okay."

Then the ground ripped open, swallowing his brother, and Dean knew for a fact that nothing was ever going to be okay.  

After a lifetime of watching out for Sam, he had failed, and there was nothing he could do. Or better, he didn't know what he was supposed to do. He thought about his promise to Sam, he thought about Lisa and Ben. Sam was clear about leaving Lucifer, the cage, and the apocalypse behind. He promised  to find Lisa and Ben, and start a new life. A life he promised Sam he would have, but not the life he wanted. Pushing aside the thoughts of his brother, he turned to Castiel.

"What are you gonna do now?" He asked, to the angel beside him. He felt a spark of gratitude, for just hours ago he thought Cas was dead. He had watched him burst into nothing. Yet, here he was, sitting shotgun next to Dean. Dean fought the urge to reach a hand out for Cas, just to make sure he was real. Although Cas was not his brother, he was his friend; hell, he was his best friend, and God brought him back.

Cas answered with no hesitation, taking Dean aback. "Return to heaven, I suppose. "

"Heaven?" Dean questioned.

"With Michael in The Cage, I'm sure it's total anarchy up there," Cas explained, looking towards Dean, blue eyes warm.

"So, what, you're the new sheriff in town?" Dean answered sarcastically, unable to comprehend  the angel’s sudden decision to run back to his flock.

"Hah,” Cas chuckled, which could count as a full on belly laugh for the emotionally stunted angel. "If you put it like that, yeah, I suppose I am,” he finished.

Dean gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles going white. Rage boiled in the pit of his stomach, rising to his throat like bile. His next words were spit out with such fierceness, he even surprised himself.

"Well, God gives you a brand new shiny set of wings and suddenly you're his bitch again."

Cas, being completely oblivious to the harshness of Dean's voice, offered the rationale of his plan.

"I don't know what God wants. I don't know if he'll even return.. It just seems like the right thing to do." The angel turned towards the hunter and watched his face carefully. Dean bit his bottom lip, trying to hold back the rage that swelled within him. Cas watched his green eyes slowly darkening as he fixated on the angel.

"Well, if you do see him, you tell him I'm coming for him next," Dean growled.

"You're angry," Cas observed.

"That's an understatement," Dean threw at him.

"He helped,” Cas stated, his rough voice calm. "Maybe even more than we realized."

Dean could hear the faith in the angel’s voice. He stole a look into his bright blue eyes, and saw faith and devotion pouring through. Not just for his father, but for him. The righteous man he raised from hell. Cas' eyes were staring back into his, and Dean found himself wishing it was enough, wishing that he could be happy with just those eyes staring back at him and the grumpy rumblings of Bobby. But neither of them were Sam, and he didn't deserve them.  

"That’s easy for you to say!" he shouted, looking at Cas accusingly. "He brought YOU back! But what about Sam?" He knew he was unfairly taking out his grief on Cas, but he couldn't stop the words that came flying out of him, filled with bitterness, "What about me, huh? Where's my grand prize? All I got is my brother in a hole!" Dean spit the last words towards the man who sacrificed everything for him. The angel with doubts, the angel who fell, the angel who died for him, for Sam. Cas looked at Dean, blue eyes full of hurt. Dean pushed down the guilt rising in him and looked back towards the slick pavement.

"You got what you asked for, Dean," Cas reminded him, "no paradise, no hell, just more of the same." He gestured to his vessel, fingers lingering over the faded blue tie that hung loosely around his neck.  "I mean it, Dean, what would you rather have: peace or freedom?"

Dean pretended not to notice how Cas deemed himself as something he was claiming as worthless. He stared ahead, not knowing how to answer. He knew this was what he signed up for the moment they rebelled against heaven and hell, the moment they decided to tell destiny to shove it. The sudden gust of air and flutter of wings saved him from his drawn out moment of silence. He turned to the empty passenger seat, realizing that this was the life he signed up for when he agreed to Sam's idiotic plan to trap the devil in his cage. Staring at the dark road, he let that moment sink in. Long nights and endless days were what he had to look forward to. And these days would only be accompanied by the haunting emptiness of the seat beside him. His brother was lost, and his angel had better things to do.

"Well, you really suck at goodbyes, you know that?"

\-------

Dean drove all night. Never slowing and never stopping, he arrived at Lisa's in a little under four hours. He parked his car across the street and watched the happy little life that was Lisa and Ben’s. Lisa was serving dinner while Ben sat at the table doing what looked like homework. Dean pictured himself at the table. He imagined Lisa running her hand along his back as she served him a plate. He imagined trying to help Ben with math, but then Ben would end up teaching him a few things. He pictured the laughs and the love he would have inside that house. But then, he pictured the emptiness he would feel. He would smile and laugh, but on the inside he would be nothing. An empty pit.

Dean shook the thoughts of the life he would never have. He watched Lisa kiss Ben on the head and sit to eat. He watched Ben laugh and joke with his mother, and he smiled fondly. He sat for hours, just watching the small family live their lives. He kept trying to muster up the courage to walk up the front steps, knock, and begin his new life. He tried, but he couldn't. Each time he tried to convince himself that he could have the apple pie life, he realized that yes, he was right, but he couldn't have it with Lisa and Ben. Hell, he didn't want it with Lisa and Ben. He wanted his brother, and he wanted old drunken Bobby. He wanted Sam to have Jessica and go to law school. He wanted to stay at Bobby's and fix up cars. He wanted Cas to - wanted Cas to what?

Dean looked to Lisa and Ben one last time, put his car in drive, and drove off with only one destination in mind.

  
  
  



	2. Saved

"God dammit," Dean cursed as he banged louder on Bobby's door. "Bobby! Open up!"

Bobby's door swung open. The older man grumbled loudly, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his crinkled eyes.

"Who the hell-" His eyes widened as he took in Dean. "What are you doing here boy?" he asked, eyes confused, "I figured you'd be ass deep in cookouts and PTA meeting with the girl and her boy."

Bobby pulled Dean in for a hug. Dean hugged his surrogate father back, chuckling at the tight grip the man had on him. Just as he had with Cas, Dean felt gratitude flow through him. Bobby, the old drunk, stupidly got himself killed when he decided to help Cas help Dean. The sound of Bobby's neck snapping echoed through Dean's mind. He gripped the man tighter.

"Good to see you, too, Bobby, it's only been, what - forty eight hours since we put the lid on the apocalypse?" Dean laughed and took a step back, taking in Bobby's current state. "And you managed to look even more like hell!" He chastised Bobby's obviously hungover state. The man was grungier than usual. His eyes were red, and he reeked of whiskey.

Bobby smacked Dean upside his head. "I don't remember judging your appearance after you died, you idjit! It's a lot to take in!"Bobby led Dean to the small kitchen and opened the fridge, reaching for two beers. He spoke again, handing one to Dean, "Speaking of, where's our little angel boy? I owe him a thanks."

Dean took a swig from the cold bottle in his hand before answering, "Oh, you know him, just dealing with his douchebag bros in heaven." His chest tightened a little, thinking about Cas and how their last conversation had ended. He mumbled, mostly to himself, "Cause they were so great to him this past year. Hah." He put the bottle to his lips and finished the beer in one long pull, trying to avoid meeting Bobby's confused look.

"Hmph.." Bobby grunted. Dean could feel the older man’s eyes on his back as he reached for another beer. As he twisted the cap off, Bobby continued, "What are you doing here, anyway? What happened with Lisa?"

Dean sighed, shaking his head. He answered, "I just couldn't do it, Bobby!" He made his way to the living room, avoiding the papers that scattered the floors and table tops. He collapsed on the couch and met Bobby's gaze from where he stood in the doorway. "I mean, I can't just give up this life and go be happy while you're still hunting, and Sam's…" He paused long enough to take another long pull of his drink. "Sam's trapped, dammit! And I'm not supposed to do anything? Fuck that!" He ran a hand over his face. With a lump in his throat, he finished, "He's my brother, Bobby. I can't just leave him there."

Bobby walked over to Dean and rested a hand on his shoulder. He waited until Dean met his eyes to speak. "I know, boy," he gestured to the room around him. "Why do you think I got all this mess here? You really thought I was gonna give up that easy?"

Dean beamed at Bobby, and Bobby chuckled and scratched his belly with one hand as he stretched the other above his head. "Now get reading, and let's get our boy back."

\-------

Dean woke with his face buried deep in another useless book. Drool had begun to pool at his chin. He groaned, lifting his head, feeling the stiffness set in. He got up from where the table was now drowning in research. It had been two months, and they had come up with absolutely nothing.  Dean made his way to the kitchen. Opening the coffee can, he practically growled at it when he realized it was empty.

"I don't understand what the can has done to anger you."

Dean jumped at the gravelly voice.  "Jesus, Cas!"

He turned to face Cas and was immediately caught off guard by his close proximity. He stood frozen as Cas stared at him with tired blue eyes, only inches away from him. He could feel Cas' warm breath brush against his skin. His eyes slid down the angel’s face. Dean paused briefly at his lips before he noticed the blood soaking through the dingy trench coat that once belonged to Jimmy. Dean reached out for Cas, hoping to inspect his wound, just as Cas collapsed - falling into Dean's arms.

"Woah, Cas! CAS!" Dean wrapped his arms around the angel’s waist, hoisting him up. "Cas, man, you okay?" His voice began to shake, panic seeping into his words. Dean knelt to the floor, turning Cas in his arms until he was facing Dean. Dean brushed a hand over his cheek, pleading at him, "Hey, Cas, what is it? What happened?"

Cas stared up at Dean, eyes heavy. Dean's hand was now cupping his chin, while the other gripped at the angel’s waist possessively.

Dean yelled, voice cracking, "CAS! Dammit, answer me!"

Cas coughed. Dean exhaled in relief as the angel sat up on his own. Dean had removed his hand from Cas’ face but was still clinging to the angel. Cas looked to Dean and then at the arm still wrapped around him. Dean released him quickly, jerking back. Cas stood and turned to Dean, face serious.

"Dean, I - "  he began before the hunter cut him off.

"What the hell, Cas? What just happened? Who did that to-"

Castiel gave Dean a look that caused Dean to quiet immediately.

"If you would allow me to continue, I have something for you," Cas spoke, tone almost light. "It was very difficult to obtain, hence the-" Cas gestured to the tattered blood soaked trench coat. "But I appear to have healed, so if you would just wait here."

The sound of fluttering wings filled the small kitchen, leaving Dean alone in the silence that followed. He stared into the empty space where Cas had just stood, and, as quickly as he had gone, he had returned. But this time, he was not alone. Dean's eyes went from the angel to the overly grown man standing beside him.

"Sammy?" he whispered, not believing his eyes. He reached out to his brother. Sam stood tall, but Dean could see the way his knees trembled, as if he might collapse at any moment. Dark circles formed around his heavy eyes. Dean reached to Sam, placing a light hand on his shoulder. Sam winced at the contact.

Sam pulled Dean weakly into a hug, "Yeah, Dean, it's me."

Dean's fingers dug into his brother’s shoulder. He could feel tears welling in his eyes. His brother was here, in his arms. Flesh and blood and alive. He closed his eyes. Two months’ worth of tension vanished. The endless books and rituals had all failed him. Dean was sure he had failed - well, he did fail. Here was Sam, back from the cage, and Dean had not been the one to make it happen.  This was all Cas. Cas, the angel of the lord, warrior of God, the angel in the middle of a civil war, for Christ's sake! Cas saved Sam when Dean couldn't, and Dean honestly couldn't be more grateful for the angel than he was at this very moment. The brothers held onto each other for a long moment before pulling apart. Dean was still staring at his little brother, but his words were directed to Cas.

"How did you get him out?"

Castiel's voice was further away then before. Dean turned toward him as he answered from where he stood in front of the bookshelf in the other room. "Very much the same way as I had with you," Cas answered nonchalantly. Like it was every goddamn day he brought someone back from hell. The smug bastard. Dean shared a look with Sam, one that told him Sam was thinking the very same thing he was. Dean rolled his eyes at the angel, armed with a snarky comment, but Cas continued before he had the chance to speak. "I assume Bobby would also like to know of Sam's return."

Dean reached out for Sam's shoulder, afraid to let him out of his reach in case this wasn't really happening.

"BOBBY!" Dean called. "Get your ass in here!"

There was a sound of angry grumbling before Bobby appeared from the stairs. He stopped short when he saw Sam beside Dean. His eyebrows shot up, mouth forming into a frown. Dean watched as Bobby reached into his pocket, and yielded a silver knife. Dean could not utter a word, before Bobby was charging at Sam, slamming him into the rusty fridge. Sam nearly collapsed, his head falling backwards, as Bobby pressed the knife to his exposed throat.

“Who the hell are you?” Bobby yelled, eye’s broken.

“Bobby, it’s me” Sam said, voice shaking.

“Bobby!” Dean reached out pulling at the old man’s shoulder. “It’s him! C’mon back off”

“The hell I will.” Bobby pressed on. Pressing the knife harder to Sam’s skin. Dean regretfully pulled Bobby from Sam, knocking him to the ground, pinning the older man’s arms to his side.

“Bobby, calm down!”

Sam had slid to the floor beside Dean and Bobby, head hanging. Dean stared at the ceramic tile of the kitchen floor, waiting for Bobby to stop struggling against his hold.

“Alright, boy. Let me up! But don’t expect me to just let this damn thing into my house, and break our hearts all over!”  

Dean clambered off of Bobby, prepared to offer the man a hand, but Cas was at his side pulling him to his feet. Cas kept a hand on Bobby’s shoulder as he spoke.

“It is alright Bobby. This is Sam, I am certain.” Cas’ eyes were focused on where Sam sat, face buried in his hands. Dean looked at his brother, his heart clenching as he realized just how terrinble Sam really looked. Dean moved to his brothers side, pushing his hair from his face. Despite the darkness in his eyes, Dean could see the hallowness of his cheeks. He wrapped an arm around his brothers waist, and lifted him. Sam rested all his weight on Dean, which normally would have sent them tumbling, but Dean could barely feel Sam. He squeezed his brother tight to his side, moving towards the living room. There was an obvious difference in Sam’s weight. Dean set his brother on the couch, and turned to Cas.

“He looks horrible, is he gonna be okay?” He asked Cas.

“Are you?” Cas retorted.

“M’sorry, what the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“Dean,” Cas started eye’s finding the wall behind Dean. “Just how ‘okay’ were you when you returned from hell?” Dean didn’t answer, he looked at Sam who laid on the couch, eye’s closed, breathing even. He grabbed Cas by the arm, and pulled him into the other room. Whispering harshly he spoke.

“Yeah, alright. I was pretty banged up after hell, but nothing like that!” He gestured to where Bobby was standing over Sam.

“When you went to hell, it was your soul that was twisted and tortured.” Cas stated, eyes heavy with what Dean could only perceive as pain, “It is much the same for Sam, except, his physical body was trapped as well, not just his soul. He needs more time to readjust.”

Dean closed his eyes and brought his hands to his face. He sighed, exhaustion coursing through his body. He spoke through his hands, voice slightly muffled.

“Look, man I just want to say-”

Dean was cut off by the sound of Bobby talking to Sam, he entered the room, to see Bobby taking Sam, who was now standing upright into his arms.

"You don’t know how glad I am to see you boy." Bobby said

"It's good to see you, too, Bobby!"

"So, how exactly did you-"

Sam answered weakly before Bobby could finish. He pointed to the angel standing beside Dean,  "Cas."

Bobby turned to Dean, who had a smile plastered on his face as he looked at his brother.

Sam was moving towards Cas as he spoke. "Cas, really, I don't even know what to say. Thank you so much for this, really."

Cas answered absentmindedly, "You are very important to Dean. I was happy to give you back to him."

Bobby and Dean looked at Cas simultaneously. Bobby said, "You did this for him?" just as Dean said, "This was for me?"

Cas looked back and forth between the three men in front of him before his gaze settled on Dean. Head tilted, he spoke, confusion in his voice, "Of course. You and I do share a more profound bond.


	3. Help

"So get this," Sam said to Dean, breaking the comfortable silence that filled the Impala.

Sam had been looking over newspaper clippings Bobby had handed them as he practically pushed them out the door. It had been over a month since Cas showed up with Sam in tow, and Dean guessed Bobby was sick of the boys stealing all his booze. Cas had left shortly after the boys had their totally non-chick-flick reunion. More angel issues, Dean guessed. He hadn’t even had time to stammer a thanks to the guy before he heard the unmistakable flutter of wings. His happiness over his brother’s return faltered shortly once Cas was out of sight, but the thought was quickly tucked away once he heard Sam's laugh again.

With the apocalypse off the agenda, the boys spent their days enjoying the small things, and nursing Sam back to full health. They watched every movie they could get their hands on and fought over which Bond was truly the best Bond; Connery or Brosnan. Of course, Bobby got them both to quit their bickering once he sided with Dean. Connery was obviously the best Bond.

All of this routine continued, of course, up until two days ago, when Bobby threw Dean something he claimed was fishy. Dean knew their job wasn't over - apocalypse or not, there were still some monsters that needed ganking - but he had been enjoying the quiet life he was having with Sam by his side. Sam, of course, jumped at the chance to get back into the game, claiming he had started to develop a bad case of cabin fever. Dean begrudgingly packed his bags and sent a quick word to Cas, letting him know they left Bobby's and where they were heading.

Dean had made a habit of silently praying to Cas. Well, not so much as praying as just letting him know how they were. Most prayers consisted of Dean telling Cas about a movie he just saw or a book he just read that Cas would enjoy. Sometimes, Dean found himself praying for Cas for no reason at all.  

"Bobby might’ve been onto something with this case," Sam continued.

Dean snorted. "Dude, come on. Drownings? It's a lake, I’m sure people drown all the time."

"There's something off about this, though. In the past two weeks, five women have drowned. All at night. All in their late twenties."

Dean rolled his eyes. Sam was right, there was definitely something going on. Sighing, he stepped on the pedal, causing the car to lurch forward and picking up speed just as they passed a sign that said: "Welcome to Cripple Creek, Colorado."

Dean chucked his duffel bag on the bed and collapsed face first into the pillow. It was just a little after nine in the morning when they had finally made it to the motel, and Dean was beat. Sam, having slept on the road, was ready to get going on this case.

"All right, Dean, I'm gonna head out, talk to a few of the families," Sam said, reaching into his own bag and pulling out his federal agent suit.

"Hmph," Dean groaned, rolling to his side. "Hey, pick up some food while you’re out, and Sam?" he called. Sam turned to his head in acknowledment, “Don’t forget the pie!”

“When do I ever?” Sam muttered just as Dean closed his eyes and welcomed a much needed sleep.

When Dean woke two hours later, Sam had still not returned.

It took a few moments for Dean to shake off his sleepy state, and for panic to set in. He scrambled to his feet and rummaged through his back searching for his phone, sighing in relief when he found it. Hands shaking, he dialed Sam’s number and listened as it rang.. once … twice.. before going to voicemail. He slammed his phone shut and tried again. This time, there was no ring, just Sam’s voicemail playing back to him.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean growled. Grabbing his bag, he headed out the door and stopped short. Sam, of course, had taken the impala, leaving Dean stranded at the motel.

“Son of a -”

Dean smiled to himself as he noticed what sat just a few spots from where the Impala had been parked.

All right, so Dean might be a worried about Sam, but he sure as hell enjoyed speeding down the road towards town. The top was down on the 1963 Mercury Comet that Dean had hot-wired in the motel parking lot. The black car rumbled to life beneath him, and he couldn’t suppress the smile that played on his lips.  The air was cold and felt refreshing against Dean’s skin. He tried not to panic as he rolled onto Main Street. The sun was just setting over the small town. Town lights flickered to life, illuminating the rustic places of work. Dean drove until he saw the low hanging sign that read “Cripple Creek Police Department.” Knowing Sam, Dean was almost positive this was where his brother started his day. Removing his badge from his jacket pocket, Dean burst through the doors, determined to find Sam.

Dean tensed immediately at the chaos that engulfed the station, which was  much smaller than he had expected. Dean maneuvered through the sea of officers and found a woman at one of the few desks that lined the walls of the old building.  Dean approached her, flashing the badge. The warm smile she had plastered to her face faltered.

“So, what, one wasn’t enough?” She asked, running a small hand through her dark hair.  

Dean smiled tightly. “Agent Stilinski,” he said, while tucking away his badge. “I’ll take it my partner already stopped by then?”

She nodded, reaching a hand to Dean, “Dr. Thompson, chief medical examiner. Guess you were lucky to find me in this mess of people.”

Dean gave a huff of laughter, taking the woman’s hand in his.  He took a small moment to appreciate the dark-haired beauty that stood before him. Her pale skin was smooth and almost glowed in comparison to the dark curls framing her face. And her eyes, well, Dean was pretty sure those were the kind of eyes that stopped people dead in the tracks. Dean could only describe them as electric. A blue so electric that it felt like a jolt of lightning slithered down his spine.

“Guess it’s my lucky day,” Dean said. “If you don’t mind, I need to know everything you told my partner,” he finished firmly.

The doctor nodded and ushered Dean to follow her.

“We can talk in my office” she nearly shouted over the echo of voiced that filled the small department. “Things have been a little crazy since they found the Tyler girl.” As they entered her office her voice returned to normal levels. Dean could hear the sadness in her tone as she continued.

“Small town, you know? Makes it hard when we lose some, especially so young. ” Dr. Thompson handed Dean a file quickly regaining her composure. She cleared her throat.

“So, like I told your partner, the five victims have all been found in the same lake just outside of town.” Dean opened the file skimming through the pictures of the victims. As Dr. Thompson continued. “Each victim had drown, although there was no signs of struggle, which lead us to believe this was all just a coincidence-”

Dean interrupted. “But how would that explain this.” He said as he laid out the pictures of each victim side by side.   Apparently, Sam was right about a case being in this town. As he stared down at the five beautifully young faces staring back at him, he felt a wave of grief for them rising, but he shoved it down fast, locking it in the emotionally lead box he’d created long ago labled, ‘victims’.

“Look at them, all of them. It’s hard to spot but it’s there.” He said.

“Exactly, I saw the same thing.” Dr. Thompson jumped in. “No one else noticed until I pointed it out. See we thought it might just be a coincidence, people drown, it happens, but these girls were chosen.” She was almost whispering now, looking at each picture with grief stricken eyes. “Freckles, they all had impossibly beautiful freckled skin, kind of like yours.” She chuckled softly, looking up at Dean.

And then she continued to confirm Dean’s belief that there was something not-normal going on here after all. Dr. Thompson told Dean about an odd substance found on the hands of each of the victims.

“Almost like an adhesive,” she informed Dean, “except, not like an adhesive I’ve ever seen.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it won’t come off at all,” she explained, “I have tried everything: water, alcohol, you name it. It can’t even be scraped off.”

Dean paused for a moment, considering all the possible monsters he might be hunting. However, he knew that was going to have to wait. Right now, he needed to find Sam. That was what mattered.

“My partner, he knew all of this?” Dean asked.

Dr. Thompson nodded her head, confused. “Agent Hale? Yes, I spoke with him myself,” she said.

“And did he happen to mention where he was going next?”

“The Tyler’s, to speak with the parents of the last victim.” She said, reaching for a pen. She handed Dean a slip of paper with an address scribbled on it.

Dean cursed silently to himself as he left the house of the latest victim.  The family of nineteen-year-old Jessica Tyler had informed Dean that, yes, a tall agent had already questioned them about the death of their daughter. After some routine questions, and as Dean knew, not- so routine questions, agent Hale left. Dean reached for his phone. Thumbing through the contacts, he stopped over Sam’s name, pressing dial. He listened and waited. No ringing, no voicemail, just silence.

Dean walked towards the town square, the town lights still shining brightly. He made his way to a fountain that sat away from the rest of the town. A few people were walking outside despite the cold evening air. Dean huffed out a breath, his lips quivering slightly.

“Hey, Cas,” he started, looking towards the evening sky. The black canvas overhead was drowning in stars. “Something’s going on here, and I need your help.” Dean waited for a long moment, eyes still on the stars, waiting for the smallest of change in the silent air that surrounded him. He let out another puff of air, and tried again. “Cas, buddy, I need you,” he called.

There was a small gust of wind and the familiar sound that made Dean’s stomach flip. He turned to see Cas, his jaw clenching as though he was fighting back a sad smile. His eyes were tired and unfocused as he spoke.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean let out a small breath, one he hadn’t even know he’d been holding, as he met the angel’s eyes. He rolled his shoulders slowly, shaking off a small tremor that shook deep in his lower back.  

\-----

“What do you mean you can’t find Sam?” Dean said, slamming his fist down on the small table in the motel room.

“Well, there is the matter of the enochian symbols carved into your ribs,” Cas retorted.

Dean paced the small floor space of the motel room, occasionally catching Cas' gaze. The angel stood awkwardly, as he always did. Perfectly postured with his hands at his side, Cas looked completely content on his feet. Dean felt uncomfortable just looking at him. Why couldn’t the guy slouch, or fidget like anyone else would. For Christ sake, Dean would at least feel a little less anxious if the guy took off his coat, or even that stupid backwards tie. Cas always looked too perfect, save for the tie and mussed hair, he was always in order.  

Cas moved towards Dean, startling him out of his thoughts, he placed a burning hand on his shoulder, stopping his frantic pacing. Dean almost flinched out from under the hand, but right now he couldn’t muster up the energy. The angels hand was almost too warm where it rest, directly atop the scar that it left a few years before.  Dean’s arm tensed, fighting the trail of warmth that followed Cas’ hand as it moved slowly down his bicep, and finally resting at Dean’s bare wrist. "I need to find Sam," Dean whispered. "I just got him back."

Cas moved directly in front of Dean. Hand still curled around his wrist. He could feel the warm breath of the man in front of him brush against his skin as he spoke. "Dean, you know Sam, he is strong, and if there was real trouble I wouldn't doubt that Sam would pray to me."

"Not if he was dead," Dean whispered, almost inaudible. Dean felt his shoulders fall, the weight of the day spent searching for Sam caving in on him, as he fell to sit on the bed, head falling into his hands.

"Dean..." Cas said, voice sounding muffled to Dean’s ears.  There was a noise from somewhere behind Dean that was barely audible. Dean’s mind was swimming with thoughts of his baby brother. Panic was beginning to rise, and he was terrified. He could not lose his brother again. Rage and guilt boiled through his veins as he made plans to gut whatever took his brother. Dean rose determination on his face. He was going to find Sam. As his mind cleared, so did the sounds that encompassed the room. Cas was, well, hell, Cas was yelling his gravelly voice deeper than Dean had ever heard before. Dean turned towards the motel room door, hand reaching into his jacket for the knife he kept there, prepared to make whatever angered his angel pay.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks as he saw his brother, all six foot four of him with wide eyes, getting scolded by a nerdy dude in a trench coat. Cas' version of scolding was pretty terrifying, which might account for the look on Sam's face. Cas didn't gesture wildly or pace like Dean did when he yelled at Sam. No, Cas stood directly in front of Sam, a few inches from his face, and scolded the taller man.

 "Your brother was ready to tear this town to shreds to find you!" Dean finally caught onto the words the angel was saying. "And I would have helped him."

Sam caught Dean's eye, his face falling, like a small puppy who had just been caught eating the Thanksgiving dinner, that took all day to prepare.  Dean moved towards Cas, placing a tentative hand on the man, turning him. Cas' eyes, fueled with rage, softened as he looked at Dean. His breath was ragged as Dean reached for the other man’s clenched hands. He brushed his fingertips over them slightly, urging the man to relax. And he did.

"Cas, thanks, but I think I got this," Dean said as he moved away. Cas' eyes widened slightly, as though he realized what he had just been doing.

"O- Of course, Sam, my apologies - I'll just-"

"Oh, no. No flying off anywhere," Dean said quickly before Cas had the chance to flee. Once he was sure Cas was not going to be taking off he turned to Sam.

“So where the hell have you been?!” He yelled arms flailing above his head, as he moved towards Sam fiercely. “And more importantly where is my baby? I swear to God, Sam if anything is wrong with her I will break your nose, you understand?”

Sam barely flinched as Dean yelled. He watched him, eye’s filled with confusion as he spoke.

“Dean, I was at the Tyler’s, and I got a call from you saying you were going to grab some food, and head to the bar.  So I went to meet you there, but you never showed. I got a drink with this girl, and we kind of hit it off. I was only gone like an hour, why are you freaking out?”

“ Well I guess you haven’t checked the time it’s like ten o’clock dude, you left here this morning. I’ve been looking for you since like noon! And you’re gonna tell me you couldn’t even call me and tell me- ” Dean paused, “Wait did you say I called you?”

“Yeah, around lunch time.”

“But I didn’t, and you didn’t get any calls after that from me? ” Dean said.

Sam shook his head, “My phone was off.”

Dean was considering breaking Sam’s nose, “And why the fuck would you do that?”

“I told you, I met a girl at the bar.”

“And she managed to keep you busy the whole day?”

“I told you it was only an hour or so!” Sam said pushing his hair from his face.

“No, Sam it wasn’t. What the hell man, how do you not realize you’ve been gone all day? Who the hell was this girl?”

“Her name was- uh” Sam stuttered, looking up as though trying to remember something that was just on the tip of his tongue. “It was- well she had- she - Dean I can’t remember.” Sam looked to his brother eye’s wide, with a hint of fear.

Dean turned to Cas, not sure why but he was hoping the angel would have an answer.

“It’s alright Sam, lets just take a step back and think. Everything is gonna be okay” Dean said hoping it sounded more believable to Sam than it did his own ears.   


End file.
